


Hung Where You Can See

by NoelleAngelFyre



Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2020 [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, Barry is so done, Christmas Eve, Eddie Thawne Lives, First Kiss, Len has no shame, M/M, Mistletoe, Pre-Relationship, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/pseuds/NoelleAngelFyre
Summary: A Christmas Eve mishap turns into a singular opportunity that Leonard Snart just can’t pass up.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Eddie Thawne/Iris West (background)
Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043328
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	Hung Where You Can See

**Author's Note:**

> An oldie but goodie trope: ColdFlash + Mistletoe. You know you can't go wrong with this. ;)
> 
> Title from "Holly Jolly Christmas". Kudos are love!

“Is there a particular reason you have mistletoe hanging over every inch of the living room?”

“ _I_ don’t have anything hanging anywhere.” Barry jerks off his gloves first, rubbing both hands together to _try_ and get feeling back into the digits, then starts on his boots with the same unnecessary (but entirely warranted) vigor that he used to toss Snart on the couch half a second after phasing them through the front door because he doesn’t have time for locks and because it serves Snart right to be left disoriented after this stunt, “I have a sister with a questionable sense of humor and high hopes for the evening with her boyfriend.”

“So what high hopes do _you_ have for the evening, pray tell?”

“To get feeling back in my lower half before the new year,” Barry tosses him a glare that’s far more heated than any other part of his body, “since _someone_ thought it would be cute to literally shoot me _in the ass_ on Christmas Eve.”

“Not my fault it makes an ample target.”

Barry pauses in the middle of battling with the lower half of his suit (the fabric is _not_ cooperating in the slightest) and slowly turns around to glare at Snart, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed of himself, “…did you seriously just say I have a—?”

“Very distracting nether region in that suit?” the smirk doesn’t falter one bit, and Snart kicks his heels up on the coffee table like he belongs here, draped over the couch, with the same air of cocksure confidence as when Barry found him sitting in the armchair drinking pilfered hot cocoa from a reindeer mug, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“…I am _not_ above drop-kicking you back out into the cold.”

“Shame,” Snart clucks his tongue and stretches like a cat, “feels like a real waste of an otherwise…singular opportunity.”

Barry doesn’t necessarily like the drop in Snart’s tone, from his usual lazy drawl to something low and dirty, and he _really_ doesn’t like the way those blue eyes are staring at him. This is also a highly inconvenient time for Barry to recall that he is, in fact, standing in the middle of the living room in his underwear. His very honest intention of defrosting in a hot shower is quickly turning into a DefCon 1 situation before he loses all sense of self-respect.

“…can we continue this conversation when I have clothes on?”

“View’s just fine from where I’m sitting.”

Jerk. “Snart, for the love of humanity, I am _freezing_.” That’s not an exaggeration in the slightest: his lower half is still feeling the effects of the gun, and right now Barry is struggling to remember why he didn’t just leave Snart there to get hauled off for the holidays.

Then Snart shrugs out of his parka, the Christmas lights glittering off something in his pocket, and Barry remembers. Kind of.

“You do know that ‘obtaining’ a five-grand necklace for Lisa still counts as stealing, Christmas or no?” he’s back in the living room, now in sweats and with somewhat more feeling in his (ahem) southern hemisphere. Snart looks at him in a way that proudly declares he still remembers the other view, despite Barry’s attempt at modesty, then shrugs and folds both arms behind his head.

“Tis the season of giving, Barry.”

“I noticed.” Barry drapes his suit over a chair as close to the fireplace as he dares, “You’re giving Lisa a string of really expensive rocks _and_ you’re giving me a headache. Quite a generous spirit you’re showing.”

“The night isn’t out yet, kid,” Barry determinedly focuses on rearranging the little decorations on the mantle, which don’t need to be adjusted in the slightest but it gives him an excuse to look anywhere but that insufferable smirk, “I could be…motivated to continue my generosity.”

Yeah, there is nothing about the tone, the delivery, or the words themselves which offer any kind of hope that Barry will come out of this night with a drop of self-respect. “My, my,” Barry nudges the little trio of snowmen around until he basically has them dancing in circles, “this is a Christmas miracle.”

There is nothing more he can do with the mantle before he just looks like an idiot, so he starts fiddling with things at random throughout the room. Then he loses track of _where_ he is in the room, doesn’t look where he’s going, and walks right into the immovable plank that is Snart’s legs. He topples forward, then feels a tug on his right hand and ends up splayed gracelessly across the man’s lap. His face must look like an embarrassed tomato.

“So,” Snart couldn’t look more self-satisfied if you _paid_ him to try, “about my offer.”

“You are _insufferable_.”

“Guilty.” Gloved fingers have helped themselves to Barry’s hair and that is _not_ fair, that is one of Barry’s _worst_ weak spots and he doesn’t even need to look at the man’s smirk to know this fact isn’t lost on him, “So—”

He’s not coming out of this with any dignity, there’s no guarantee that the family isn’t going to walk through the front door at any minute, but he is going to come out with the satisfaction of shutting Leonard Snart up for five seconds and that alone is worth it.

…Okay, maybe a little longer than five seconds.


End file.
